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The face belonging to the man looking down at her was amused. And familiar, somehow. He was so tall Isla had to tilt her chin to meet his eyes, black as coals. His hair spilled ink across his pale forehead. Nightshade, no question. Which meant . . . “Thank you, Grimshaw,”
The insignia glowed a final time, and a girl stepped forward, stumbling ever so slightly. She was the silver of stars, from her long, straight sheet of hair to her twinkling dress to her gloves, which reached her elbows. She smiled sheepishly at them, heart-shaped face going wide, then stood tall. “I suppose I’m the last to arrive?” Cleo channeled her distaste right at the girl. The ruler of Starling, like Isla, was new. Starling’s curse had been one of the cruelest. No one in their realm lived past the age of twenty-five. Isla stepped forward and offered her hand. “Celeste, is it?” The
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Grim roughly placed his goblet of wine down onto the table. “Isla, as much as the blood on your lips suits you, I sense my good friend Azul’s distaste for Wildling . . . pleasures.” Indeed, the Skyling, though clearly trying to be polite, looked ill. Grim motioned for the staff. “Please send this to her quarters.”
Still confused, Isla made her way to the sidelines, only to find a concerned Celeste. Her friend couldn’t say anything, not in front of the other rulers, but Isla knew she had made herself stand out too much. Her job was to skate by, mostly unnoticed, so they could hopefully be paired together.
But the shop had hundreds of clothes . . . it would be nearly impossible to take inventory each day. Then again, the tailor seemed deeply committed to his profession. Perhaps he had noticed. Would he report the theft? Would he suspect the Wildling who had been in his shop that same morning of being the culprit?
Azul frowned. “There are no Skyling nobles.” She must have looked confused, because he continued. “We’ve had a democracy since I came into rule. The Skylings who are invited to the smaller events are elected officials. All big decisions are made based on voting from my people.”
“My choice of partner,” the king repeated through his teeth, clearly hating every word coming out of his mouth. The room fell away. She forgot to school her expression or control her emotions around Grim. Her mouth might have been hanging open. She might have accidentally shot Celeste a horrified look. “Is Isla.”
Oro bared his teeth at her. “Are you truly this stubborn?” “Are you truly this overbearing?” she demanded. “I said no. Now leave.” The king stayed put for a moment. Then he got up and walked back toward the thicket, cursing beneath his breath. Good.
It wasn’t until she was done and slumped against a tree that she realized she had been biting into Oro’s hand. It was covered in bite marks. She had pierced the skin in various places. She was too tired to feel shame. All she could do was count her breaths as Oro used a canteen of water and his Moonling abilities to close her wounds.
The heart was not in either location on Sky Isle. Or Sun Isle, which Oro searched himself. It was the last place Oro had said he wanted to look. But on the fifty-ninth day of the Centennial, the time came to search where darkness met light on Moon Isle.
Isla poked her head up to give him a withering look. “I wouldn’t have to cling so much if you held me properly.” “Properly?” She nodded. “More tightly. More securely.” Oro shifted his hands. Suddenly, instead of being loosely held in front of him, she was cradled against his chest. Her entire body warmed from his heat. It was almost comfortable. “Better?” he asked. She expected his tone to be mocking. But it wasn’t. “Better.”
Oro turned to the Moonling ruler. “Cleo, would it suit you to be matched so we might search Moon Isle for this relic together?” Isla wasn’t breathing. A roaring had overtaken her hearing. She had to have heard him wrong . . . had to have misunderstood. Could he even change the matches?
He surprised her by smiling. He placed his hand carefully against her cheek. “If anyone makes a move to harm you, I will ruin them and their entire realm.” His fingers trailed down her face, past her throat, then tugged gently on the pendant at the end of her necklace. “Pull this,” he said. “And I’ll be there.” Isla believed him. She believed only him.
Cleo must have spun the curses. That was what Juniper had tried to tell her. That was why the Moonling killed him. Had she created the curses and given her realm one to erase suspicion? A curse that wouldn’t weaken her in the slightest? She hadn’t suffered at all. She was still as strong as ever. If that was true . . . Cleo wouldn’t want the curses to be broken.

